


Stolen

by Clementiaverborum



Category: Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, F/M, First Kiss, Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-03
Updated: 2012-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clementiaverborum/pseuds/Clementiaverborum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lara Raith steals a 16-year-old Harry Dresden's first kiss. Lara POV. Written for the Dresden Files kink-meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Dresden Files kink-meme, for a prompt suggesting Lara/Harry, _almost-canon-with-a-twist_ , and Lara tracking Harry and stealing his first kiss.
> 
> Warnings: Underage, dub-con, references to canon incest.

Lara would be the first to admit that she didn’t understand many things. Why her father believed his tactics would never backfire on him. How Thomas managed to simultaneously understand what he was and ignore it. How in the world Madeline and Madrigal had managed to survive this long.

Why the other members of the Court thought that letting the wizardess whom her father had taken to his bed escape and simply vanish from sight was a good idea.

Lara always knew where Margaret LeFay was. Or rather, had been, as judging by the number of scared, dazzled people and holes in the landscape. Lara didn’t _quite_ manage to keep tabs on LeFay’s present location and where she was going to go next. But she did well for “a bimbo under Daddy’s thumb,” as she’d once heard Madeline describe her.

(Another reason that Madeline was not going to live nearly as long as a White Court vampire conceivably could).

Lara didn’t yet know what use the knowledge would be. But knowledge didn’t have to have an immediate purpose to be useful. She let it mature, let it ripen.

And when she heard the rumors that LeFay had married a mortal and borne a son—a son who would more than likely inherit his mother’s power, because it was never good to bet against chance where that particular line of wizards was concerned—Lara smiled and watched even more closely. Thus, she was the first one to note the new signs of weakness in her father. She raised her eyebrows and watched some more.

It was somewhat infuriating when the boy vanished from the sight of even her best spies after his father’s death, but remembering Margaret LeFay’s rather spectacular presence in the world, Lara did not allow her anger to become fear. He would appear again, and undeniably.

\---------------------------------------------

It was chance that revealed him to her, not planning. But one could wield chance like planning if one was wise enough.

And chance that convinced others it _was_ one’s planning…Lara knew of nothing more delicious.

(Well, except for deflowering a wet-mouthed, starry-eyed virgin. But she had trained herself to deal in the realm of _everyday_ comparisons as well as the unicorn-rare dreams).

She was walking to her limo after a long day of subtly teasing one of House Raith’s more persistent opponents into a jealous madness. She wore a conservative outfit by some of her standards, nothing more scandalous than black heels and a short black skirt. Her white shirt was even high-cut enough to conceal all but the tops of her breasts.

She turned her head in the summer heat, and saw him.

He leaned against a wall, gaping up at the buildings around him with brilliant eyes that said more plainly than words that he had never been in Chicago before. He was taller than most mortals already, with the promise of more contained in his lean lines and his whipcord shoulders. Lara could see the shock of dark hair from here, and the edges of stubble on his jaw. 

And around him, the song of magic. 

Powerful. Uncoordinated. Strumming like a harp played by that unfortunate thrall that Madeline had brought home last month. 

(One of the reasons that Lara did not intend to let Madeline survive long was that she really had the most _appalling_ taste).

And familiar. Lara had felt power like that when Margaret LeFay dwelt in the same house. Going into the same room with her always had been rather like shoving one’s head into the open jaws of a lioness and hoping that she didn’t choose that moment to bite down.

This one wasn’t a lion yet, though. Someday, of course. Lara never had her doubts about someday.

Or right now, at least where it concerned this boy. She crossed the street, waving her driver to stay back. 

The click of her heels passed unnoticed at first; the boy was squinting and tilting his head to the side as if trying to figure out how he would fit the entire skyline in his memories. Then he noticed her and spun around. Lara felt shields try to snap up as he lifted a hand.

They couldn’t have _that,_ now. It was most impolite. Lara met his eyes and reached out.

The boy shivered and dropped his hands. Lara smiled as he stared at her. Virgins. There was nothing like them. The touch of his eyes was hot and awkward all at once, like peppermint for the skin. She crooked a finger, and he stumbled toward her as though yanked by a rope.

Lara put out her arm, and he clutched it, drowning. Lara drew him back toward the side of the building. Few people would probably look twice at a kid old enough to try an expensive whore, but one with her eyes shining silver would draw too much notice.

“Who are you?” he whispered.

“My name is Lara.” Lara embraced her demon and filled her voice with the sound of bells, windchimes, ethereal and eternal music. The boy swayed and whispered it back to her, and ah, wasn’t the sound of his lips parting around the name sweet?

“What’s your name?” Lara asked. She knew, of course, but she wanted to hear him speak it for the first time. It was only right that they be properly acquainted. They were practically relatives by chance and power.

“Harry Dresden.”

The plunked syllables of his name made Lara shiver, and she felt her power brush against his. Flare to flare, hand to hand, and it made her knees weaken. She could see now why her father had kept LeFay. Drawing in a wizard had its own advantages.

And a virgin wizard at that. No matter what else LeFay had been, her maidenhood was long over by the time that she came to House Raith. If Lara could…

Then she caught sight of a swift movement down the street, and felt a different power, one that rang her teeth. A tall wizard with dark eyes and a permanent frown scanned the street where Harry had stood. He didn’t wear a gray cloak, but he might as well have. _Warden._

No time for all the delicious games that she wanted to play with Harry, then. But Lara didn’t intend to go away with an empty stomach. She cupped Harry’s chin with one hand and let her fingers move lightly back and forth over the stubble. Rather like petting a porcupine. She was willing to bet the resemblance would increase later in life.

Harry’s eyes were dark, ringed, woodland pools, blown pupil, self-control gone. Lara turned her head to the side so that she could whisper into his ear. 

“When you are tempted to think that magic—all kinds of magic, not only the kind that you study—is a daydream, when you are lost in the depths of despair, when you face your first enemy and you fear death, then remember me.”

And she kissed him. 

Her demon went mad. Never been kissed, burning lips against hers, tentative tongue that she had to coax out, the stubble rasping and scraping against her palms, the taste of copper in her mouth where he bit down, _heat_ , and _power,_ and _innocence,_ oh, so good…

She didn’t dare linger as long as she wanted, or the Warden would find her. She stepped back and ran a hand down his chest, appreciating the gallop of his heart. She had killed a man like that, with no more than her kiss, making his heart accelerate until it could no longer sustain the pace of excitement. 

(That had been the moment she looked up and into herself and realized that she need not always live in fear of her father, that someday she would be a _power_ in the world).

“Remember me, sweet Harry,” she whispered. “When you find the fire at the bottom of your soul, remember that I saw it and broke it free first.”

And she turned and walked back to her driver, moments before the Warden came around the corner, confident that he would question Harry first and that Harry would be able to babble nothing but confusing stories of a beautiful woman, so beautiful, he’d never seen anything like her…

Lara was the most subtle of her House, and Wardens were notoriously proud of their abilities to detect magic. This one would find it far easier to believe that Harry had been mesmerized by his first sight of a hooker than that a White Court vampire had been nearby.

Lara did risk one glance over her shoulder as she slid into the back of the limo, and saw the Warden frowning down at Harry. Harry half-cringed as he stood in front of him, but not enough.

_That is another thing we will have in common, then, besides a half-brother,_ Lara thought, signaling for the car to move. _We will both make our father figures rue the day they tried to control us._

\-------------------------------

Many things had been sweet in Lara’s life: the growing certainty that she would break free someday, the sometimes-foolish trust that Thomas placed in her, the first moment of glory and power when she woke to the Hunger, the first time that Madeline looked at her with fear.

The stolen kiss from the boy who would become Chicago’s wizard. 

But nothing sweeter than the moment when Harry saw her again and his eyes widened, his pupils dilated, his heart sent up a dizzy song of desire and need and want…

And fury.

Lara smiled at him as they prepared to cross swords, and formed the silent words with her lips: _Will you tell anyone?_

But of course he wouldn’t. How could he? That moment belonged to both of them alone. Precious. Snatched from the world around them in the face of all those who would disapprove, including this older version of Harry.

Stolen.

Lara had always enjoyed being a thief most when she could share a bond with the victim and let them _know_ what she had taken. 

It was one reason she left some of her victims alive.


End file.
